
by Ben Solomon
Let’s say you’re sharp. Really sharp. Sharp as Einstein on a good day. You can call it six, seven, even eight times out of ten what’s beneath a rock. Any rock. And therein lies the catch. Never can you figure when it’s going to turn out to be that ninth or tenth time.

by Ben Solomon
Brother, what a yarn. Real Ripley’s stuff. Who’d of thought the lives of two people could hang in the balance over a thing like that. I’m betting that’s what the department can’t dope out. You’ve got means, you’ve got opportunity, you’ve even got the murder weapon. But you can’t grasp the motive. There’s even a second weapon you’re all in the dark about. After a fashion. Sure there is.